Though vulgar enough in his royal dress, the King lost altogether what little dignity he had under the costume of a steward.
Besides, always unfortunate, a grocer’s shop, with its surroundings, was not the most romantic spot in which to utter those royal words:—
“Placed in the capital, in the midst of swords and bayonets, I came to seek in the country, in the midst of my faithful subjects, the liberty and peace that were denied me in Paris.”
Then, opening his arms, he pressed poor M. Sauce, paralyzed with the honor, to his breast.
At the moment that the King embraced M. Sauce, a thunder of horses’ hoofs was heard coming in an unexpected direction—that is to say, from the Place Latry.
The King believed that it was assistance, but the patriots smelt danger; and M. Drouet cried out, “Take the King up to the first floor!”
Sauce asked the King to follow him, and he did so, without making any difficulty.
Scarcely was the door of the chamber on the ground floor shut, when they heard a tumult at the head of the Rue de la Basse Cour, by the side of the Place Latry.
Many voices cried out “The King! the King!”
One voice alone replied, “If it is the King you want, you will have him dead!”